


Still Looking Up

by REwrites



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-31
Updated: 2013-03-31
Packaged: 2017-12-07 02:46:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/743293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/REwrites/pseuds/REwrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a lifetime of mistakes behind them. Sirius is pretty sure they won’t be the last. But he’s going to try.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Still Looking Up

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Black Circle DJ. Thanks to Pavla and M3535 for the beta!

i  
  
The first time he kisses Remus, Sirius feels his knees go weak. It’s fairly ridiculous when he thinks about it. He is the kisser, not the kissee; by all rights, Remus should be the one swooning, for fuck’s sake. But his knees threaten to give out all the same, and he has to pretend when he stumbles that what he really meant to do was to push Remus deftly against the wall of the very cramped broom cupboard they ducked into, seconds before Filch rounded the corner and caught them flooding the toilets on the third floor.  
  
He hadn’t even meant to do it, really. He’d thought about it before, but he never wondered if it meant something. Lots of boys must  _think_  about that sort of thing now and again. But, Merlin’s tits, he is glad he is an impulsive bastard because  _this_. This is…the best idea he’s ever had, and if the way Remus moans –oh fuck, he’s  _moaning_ —is any indication, he thinks so too. Remus’s tongue teases his lips and Sirius loses the ability to think coherently as he teases back and molds his body against the other boy’s, pressing him against the wall to support his weight, and kisses him like he might die if they stop.  
  
Remus’s lips are chapped and he doesn’t kiss anything like Melanie Greengrass or Helene McAvoy, who were both soft and gentle and let him touch their breasts. Remus is rough. Demanding. Urging Sirius on with his teeth and tongue until Sirius is matching his ferocity, hands exploring things that are most definitely  _not_  breasts but somehow much more exciting to touch.  
  
The dip of Remus’s collar. His cheekbones. Those narrow hips. Sirius pulls Remus’s shirt from his trousers and runs the pad of his thumb over Remus’s stomach, feeling the rough outlines of a scar. Places on Remus’s body he’s seen almost every day for the last five years but never touched. Why not? Who cares, he’s touching now, and he likes it. Fuck, he likes it a lot.  
  
Remus is arching against him, fingers buried in Sirius’s hair, pulling none-too-gently, which might, on a normal day, when Sirius is not snogging the daylights out of one of his best friends, make him squeal like a bloody woman and throw the first hex he can think of at the assailant, but ends up making his hips jerk forward like he’s some strange marionette that gets turned on by kissing prefects in broom cupboards.  
  
They’re breathing like they’ve run miles when they finally break apart. Sirius’s fingers are still tracing the scar on Remus’s belly, and Remus is gently untangling Sirius’s hair from his hands. The moment hangs for an eternity, waiting to be acknowledged and explored. Sirius decides, having been the instigator of the whole thing, to speak first.  
  
“Alright?” he asks, breathless.  
  
Remus nods slowly, huge, brown eyes looking into his. “Yeah. You?”  
  
And there is something. Something in those brown depths that Sirius has never seen before or maybe has just never noticed until now. It makes his stomach flop and a ridiculously goofy smile break across his face. “Yeah. Definitely alright.”  
  
ii  
  
Sirius Black is one of the most irritating boys Remus has ever known. He’s arrogant, childish, and downright cruel at times. He’s impulsive and selfish and a bit of wanker really, swaggering around the castle, hexing other students when he’s bored or just for the fun of it, and he looks so bloody gorgeous while doing it, it makes Remus want to scream.  
  
Sometimes Remus does scream.  
  
Sometimes Sirius screams back.  
  
Remus has seen couples like that before. At each other’s throats one second and snogging the next, breaking up every other week only to get back together a few days later. It’s ridiculous. He and Sirius are nothing like that. It’s just that sometimes Sirius pushes his last button, smiling like he’s won a whole vat of Sluggie’s Felix Felicis, and Remus wishes very much that he  _had_  been sorted into Ravenclaw, as it had so often been suggested, just to have a moment’s fucking peace.  
  
And anyway, he doesn’t really scream, although he has raised his voice on more than one occasion. He’s never really screamed at Sirius. He doesn’t really have to. Sometimes all he has to do is give Sirius a  _look_  and while it won’t stop him doing the stupid thing he (and James and often Peter too) are up to, he will look guilty while doing it, so that must be something.  
  
Sometimes, when he has done something spectacularly bad, Sirius can even be apologetic. Never to the person he’s insulted or hexed, of course. But on occasion, when the common room is empty, save for one tired werewolf who is still catching up on last week’s lessons, he will curl up beside Remus on their favorite sofa and whisper sweet things into his ear until Remus smiles and forgives him for whatever terrible thing he’s done.  
  
Remus will always forgive him in the end, because Sirius Black might be the most irritating boy Remus has ever known, but he also the most amazing.  
  
iii  
  
Deep down, Sirius knows he does not deserve Remus.  
  
He knows how other people see him—gorgeous, smart, cool, a Black. He could have anyone. If anything, Remus should be grateful Sirius even bothers with him. He doesn’t think that though. He’s never been  _that_  kind of Black, but then again…  
  
Afterwards, Sirius doesn’t remember why he told that slimy bastard how to get past the Willow. Did he really need a reason to want to kill Severus Snape? Fuck,  _kill_? No. He hadn’t wanted to kill anyone. He’d just wanted to scare him. Make him think twice before coming after Sirius and his friends again—before coming after Remus again. He hadn’t actually expected the idiot to believe him.  
  
Remus is so damned quiet after James tells him. Just nods and shrugs like he’s just been told there is X for dinner instead of Y and not that one of his closest friends (not to mention whatever the hell else they are) has betrayed him in the worst possible way. Sirius tries to apologize—actually apologize for once in his life but he words stick in his throat every time because how can he? If it had been James or Peter who had spilled Remus’s secret, Sirius would be beyond furious.  
  
He’s good at hiding pain, Remus. Sirius hasn’t been his friend for six years and not noticed a thing or two about how he copes with things like this. They go back to normal. It’s as if nothing has happened, but Sirius knows—fucking  _knows_ —that something has changed when they touch. But Remus makes it easy for him. Every time Sirius gets his nerve up to talk about it, Remus just smiles the same tired smile, kisses him like there is nothing else in the world he’d rather do, and tells him “It’s okay, Padfoot. Really.” And Sirius is just stupid in love enough to believe him.  
  
iv  
  
The end is near. Remus can feel it. Not of the war, no—the increasing body count and ever-present fear tells him this war is only just beginning. It is the end of them—of us—that is close, breathing down his neck, inevitable and terrifying.  
  
The suspicion is killing them. The argument from earlier is still replaying itself in his head. It didn’t matter how many times Remus tried to explain that he  _couldn’t_  tell Sirius where he had been the night before, Sirius refused to listen.  
  
 _“You can tell me, Remus!”_  
  
“No, I can’t.”  
  
“I tell you where I’ve been.”  
  
“You shouldn’t.”  
  
Sirius stared. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”  
  
“It means we’re at war, Sirius! People are dying! Our friends are dying!”  
  
“I know that!”  
  
“Well start acting like it!  
  
It had only gotten worse from there.

  
Remus runs one hand across Sirius’s bare back, listening to the soft sounds of his breathing. At least they don’t go to bed angry. He traces a bite mark on Sirius’s shoulder. Perhaps that is debatable. Remus isn’t sure how much more they can take before they break.  
  
They’ve been Remus-and-Sirius for so long. Years. A lifetime, if Remus is honest with himself. He isn’t sure he knows how to be anything else. He never thought he would have to be, but he’s learned his lesson where Sirius is concerned, and he cannot, he  _will not_  make the mistake of trusting someone blindly simply because he is in love.  
  
If only it weren’t so good—how Sirius can still make him smile when things are so dark amazes him. Long, slow mornings spent in bed when they can afford it or when Sirius feels like going into work late. Desperate kisses that still make him dizzy even though it’s been years. Liberating flights over London on Sirius’s bike.  
  
But the bad would go too. The stony silences when Remus has to lie about where he’s been. The tension that feels like a third wheel in their relationship now. The fights about nothing because they’re both just so scared. Even the blasted dog hair on his all of sweaters.  
  
Remus would take dog hair in his tea if it could fix whatever has broken between them.  
  
Remus refuses to give up without a fight, that much is certain. Sirius would call him a stubborn bastard. Maybe he is. But he’ll fight for this as long and as hard as he can because what they have is worth fighting for. He believes that with all his heart. Even if Sirius doesn’t.  
  
v  
  
Sirius doesn’t look as Remus approaches and eases down beside him on the grass, though he does quirk a smile when he hears Remus’s knees pop in protest. Old Man Moony is actually an old man now.  
  
Those sorts of things still bowl him over now that he has time to appreciate them. Remus grew up without him. Remus exhales softly when he lays back. Sirius can  _feel_  Remus next to him, even though they aren’t touching. He’s missed that feeling.  
  
The grass is warm and the sky is dark above them, blue stars spreading out infinitely. Sirius can remember nights like this before Azkaban, quizzing Remus on his astronomy as they watched the stars together. Sirius recalls inventing a game of it one night. For every constellation Remus could name correctly, Sirius would remove one item of clothing. He’d been naked within minutes, though because Remus was anxious to ravish him, or because Sirius had made it too easy, or because Remus was actually better at astronomy than he was, he was never sure.  
  
They’re probably too old for that game now. He finds Remus’s hand beside him in the grass and laces their fingers together, smiling. This is nice too.  
  
“Will you stay long?” Remus asks, squeezing his hand gently.  
  
Sirius would like to make some romantic gesture or statement. Maybe say something like:  _“I’ll stay forever if you’ll have me, Moony,”_  and then kiss Remus as they make love under the stars like they used to. And even though he would mean it, he doesn’t say it aloud, because things are different now.  _They_  are different now. There is a lifetime of mistakes behind them, and Sirius is pretty sure they won’t be the last. But he’s going to try. If it’s the last thing he does, he’s going to make things right between them again.  
  
“Sirius?”  
  
Sirius brings their twined hands to his lips and kisses Remus’s knuckles. “As long as I can.”


End file.
